


Go Harder

by CCAirBorn



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Hand Fetish, Hand Kink, Hands, I suppose, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vauge sex, drabbel, hand antomy, just imagine hands, theres a few fancy words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 19:17:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15371496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCAirBorn/pseuds/CCAirBorn
Summary: Even with newly trimmed, newly filed, newly polished nails - soft with artificial saliva - they stilled dug deliciously into his flesh and tore at his optics.





	Go Harder

**Author's Note:**

> Idea from Discord about HANKS HANDS BEING OLD AND MMMM A+

Hank with large, rough hands - the surface of his palms rigid and dent from years of police work.  
A few decades of paperwork leaving marks, soaked in between the crannies of his anterior folds. Some might have called them ugly but they couldn't have been more beautiful as they roamed his skin, dragging his harden proximals to wrap around carbon fiber hips.  
They were so warm, surface temperature of 23.9 degrees C (75 degrees F). Higher than idle once, of course. You couldn't call those idle hands, those were the devil's workshop - yet he was doing what people call sinning. What a deviant. 

"...Hank--"

Even with newly trimmed, newly filed, newly polished nails - soft with artificial saliva - they stilled dug deliciously into his flesh and tore at his optics. Tiny pops in the knuckles between them, microscopic vibrations as muscle shifted to clench around the androids wrists and the heartbeat in his median palmar-- _his palmer..._

He had his heartbeat on his artificial skin.

It was real, so real. Far from any simulation program The Negotiator had experienced or any pulls he had checked. 90 beats per minute, a healthy number for his age and diet. No signs of irregularity or distress, though the sweat sticking between them would say otherwise. Hank made them both quick slick, the fragrance of exhaust from air pollution, 2 days old french fries and _raw power._ Also known as a mixture of adrenaline and dopamine and the Lieutenant was soaking in it. 

“Please--!”

Slender yet large fingers, longer than The Machine’s own, braided themselves together with his. Supposedly leaving bruises on the wrist to match the colour of their glowing blushes was enough, any deeper colour and they might need to be covered quite carefully. He could never do a handshake without explanation for a while. 

His other hand had the time of their life mapping out its playground and, _god,_ how light and safe they made The Deviant feel. Every once in a while he would get lucky, discovering a piece of dry skin just perfectly out of place. The perfect length, perfectly dragging against him, across him-- leaving scratch trails over sensitive organs and nubs. 

The Brunette was torn between wanting more and never wanting it to stop-- _please never make it stop._ Touch everything there is to be touched for there is love with every pressure and poke and scratching. There is dripping lust with gasp and grip against him. And every forced pull, followed by a sudden push, followed by strokes afraid he would break forms a pit in his stomach which makes him want to-- **_please never make it stop._**

Hank started with porcelain tender cups and holds on his face, a face design to please any human with symmetrical feathers and tiny stumbles. However, they are working their way down harder and more aggressive somewhere else for the moment and-- fuck does The Negotiator want them to go faster. He wants to be shown how rough they can really get and how beautiful they can paint him in crimson. 

For a canvas is but a waiting object, the brushes are but some tools. The Canvas is waiting to experience what the imagination can fill and cover him with. 

“Go harder.” Connor whisper against a smile so sly he almost chokes on his words.


End file.
